


lose the morning

by heather_in_hell



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Morning Sex, Smut, more musical verse than movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 17:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heather_in_hell/pseuds/heather_in_hell
Summary: JD doesn't like that Veronica is so eager to get to Heather's house the morning after they sleep together, so he decides to teach her about stopping to smell the roses and the beauty of leisure Sunday mornings.





	lose the morning

The menacing chorus of laughter that mimics the sound of nails on a chalkboard halts in Veronica’s head as her body jolts upright and a scream forces its way out of her mouth. The pressure of someone’s hands are on her shoulders.

 

“Veronica? What’s going on?”

 

Her eyes open and adjust to her surroundings: a bed that isn’t hers, sheets pooled around her body, morning light muted behind thin curtains, and a half-naked boy sitting next to her.

 

“Shit,” Veronica sighs frustratedly, her shoulders dropping and heart still hammering. Only a nightmare. Still, one that could very well be her reality in a mere matter of hours.

 

“It was just a dream,” she mutters, mostly to herself. Her hands fly to the bird’s nest on top of her head that she always wakes up with to try and smooth it down with no avail. There’s a light pounding in her head from last night, or rather early morning before.

 

“About what?” JD asks, his hands sliding down her shoulders to her arms. It sends tingles to the nape of Veronica’s neck.

 

“Nothing,” she answers. She doesn’t want to explain Heather Chandler’s plot to ruin her life and the cult of students laughing at her demise. “I’ve got to get to Heather’s house.”

 

She rises from the bed, the wooden floor cold beneath her feet, and stands on slightly shaky, jelly-like legs. Warmth colours her cheeks as flashes of the night before flood her mind, hazy from the micro bit of grogginess left hanging onto her consciousness. She looks down at her undressed state, only in her underwear and the big t-shirt JD gave to her, which she begrudgingly changed into just before passing out. She suddenly regrets standing up so quickly.

 

Her doubts are eased when arms wrap around her middle and pull her back onto the bed. She laughs softly, half landing on the mattress and half in JD’s lap.

 

“What’s the rush?” he muses. His voice is slowed down, deepened and thickened by sleep. It makes the tingles on Veronica’s neck migrate to her stomach. She settles into him as they face the curtain concealed sun, silence engulfing them. She wonders if JD’s dad heard her lovely idea of an alarm clock, or if he was even home at this time.

 

“I thought you were done with Heather?” JD says after some time. Veronica swallows thickly.

 

“Well, she’s not done with me,” she says. “She’s going to ruin my life if I don’t get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness.”

 

Though she isn’t facing him, she knows JD is making a face of disapproval. “Ruin your life,” JD scoffs. “Like high school is your entire life.”

 

“Yeah, well that’s easy for you to say,” she says. “You’re new. You won’t have any repercussions for pissing off the most powerful girl at school, like I will.”

 

“High school power is the literal definition of uselessness,” JD replies. “If you pull up a dictionary, it’ll be there.”

 

She turns around in his lap, their knees touching through the thick material of JD’s sweatpants. His hair is a dark wave of dishevelment and Veronica wants to run her fingers through it, so she does. Her fingertips reach up and comb through his hair slowly and meticulously as if to feel each individual strand. He closes his eyes and she watches in fixation as he draws in a breath. Veronica feels unquestionably and unexpectedly normal. No morning after weirdness, no shyness about her previous recklessness and lack of clothes. Just normal.

 

“Last night was…incredible,” she tells him in a voice quieter than silence. “Thanks for putting up with my, uh...you know, craziness.”

 

“The pleasure was all mine,” he says, deep brown eyes on hers, and perhaps she spoke too soon about the feeling normal thing. His words and stare ignite a burning in her, not one that hurts her, but one that fills her with so much heat it’s almost uncomfortable. She kisses him, soft but deep, the thought that her breath may still taste faintly of alcohol fleeting.

 

She breaks the kiss and looks at him, his eyes still closed in bliss. She doesn’t resist planting another kiss at the corner of his mouth and on the bow of his lips before pulling away from him and standing up once more.

 

“I hate to ruin it, but I really should get to Heather’s,” Veronica says. JD’s eyes fly open the way a record playing soothing music scratches to a halt and he frowns at her. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t make the rules for these things. It’s either do or die.” She begins to scour for her lost clothes on JD’s bedroom floor.

 

For the second time, the same pair of arms catch Veronica before she can get far and pulls her back into the same lap. She’s about to playfully protest when JD’s voice appears right in her ear, his breath on the side of her neck. “Stay,” he says. “It’ll still be morning for a while.”

 

His voice has a lulling effect on her, beckoning her to his suggestions like a lighthouse to a ship at sea. Before she can reply, she feels his hand move down the gentle curve of her hip to rest on her abdomen. His hand is big and warm on her skin and she wonders if he can feel the butterflies fluttering about inside her.

 

“You’ll make me lose the morning,” she breathes.

 

“Don’t think of it as losing anything,” he says, and she swears she can hear the smile in his voice. His fingers dip below her underwear, putting to rest any objections she may have had. His palm is pressed flat against her and his fingers curl and Veronica melds into him, slumping down into the shape of his torso and the back of her head resting in the slope of his shoulder.

 

“You’re trying to kill me,” Veronica laughs breathlessly. As if on cue, JD gently rubs over her clit and her spine straightens as an undercurrent of soft but building pleasure overtakes her. So much for being in a rush to save her own life.

 

“Maybe,” JD replies in an impish tone. He presses his slightly curved lips to her tangled hair, her shoulder, the side of her neck. Veronica parts her thighs to make way for his ardent fingertips, which seem to know her after only one eventful day, and sighs in pleasure. The sound makes JD smile wider.

 

He continues to massage over her clit, but not with urgency. His movements are languid, slow, the way things on a Sunday morning should be. The intensity this time does not come at her in bursts and crashing waves but rather long, drawn out pulses that make her lose sense of time and reacquaints herself with his body. He lifts the side of the shirt she’s wearing up to expose her hip and ribcage and slides his other hand underneath, cupping her breast firmly. Veronica moans faintly as goose bumps disperse over her arms and legs. She clutches JD, feels the fine hair on his forearm, and digs her nails into his skin; a love bite without the teeth.

 

She begins rocking up against his fingers without a steady rhythm, simply letting her body follow along to the flow of JD’s movements. He keeps the leisure, directionless tempo but adds the slightest amount of pressure to the circular motions on her clit and Veronica inhales sharply, reaching up to cup the back of his neck blindly behind her from where she’s perched on his lap. She pulls him closer by the neck and turns her face to catch his mouth in a messy, clumsy kiss. She feels how hard he is against her lower back and grinds back on him, enjoying the way his moan makes her melt.

 

“You’re eager,” Veronica whispers coarsely as he thumbs her nipple underneath her shirt.

 

“And you’re giving me a semi lap dance right now,” JD says. “I’m understandably so.”

 

A cross of a moan and a laugh escapes her. “I am _not_ giving you a lap dance.”

 

“I said semi,” he replies. “A backwards, lackluster lap dance.”

 

She laughs again and is about to ask him if he even knows what a lap dance is because this is certainly not it before getting cut off by his teeth nipping at the space behind her ear and his fingers pressing a little deeper and all she can come up with is a breathless “Shut up” as her brain is turned to mush.

 

“Fuck,” she nearly chokes out in a nearly desperate plea. His breath is hot on her neck. Sweat forms at the top of her forehead and she braces the hand not cupping the neck on his knee and uses it to push herself off and grind back onto him, slowly and mindlessly. She hears how he’s trying to keep himself put together but the jaggedness in his breathing peaks through the control. He’s just as awestruck as she is, not just from this moment but from all of the events leading up to now. The cafeteria fight, the lingering glances and sly flirting in 7-Eleven, the break in to his house. The fact makes her grin in achievement, that she actually got someone like JD who wanted her back; how they wanted each other and both knew it from the beginning. Her fingers twist and tighten subconsciously in the hair at the nape of his neck.

 

It only takes a few more long moments for her to come, body leaning forward with JD’s arms fastened around to seat belt her from falling over as her gasp cuts through the morning silence. His fingers still pressed against her clit is sensitive and her hips stutter against them. She lightly pushes his wrist to alleviate the sensitivity and he takes the hint, pulling his hand away. Veronica slumps back against his torso, panting faintly. Her cheeks are hot and the sunlight from outside grows warmer through the curtain.

 

“Wow,” is all Veronica can say. JD laughs into her shoulder, sending low vibrations against her skin.

 

“Sorry to have wasted your morning,” he teases. He hugs her close and kisses her jaw. Veronica twists in his arms and pounces. He lands on his back, his laugh half-winded from being pushed over, and she straddles him, looking down at him puckishly. The subdued glow from the window illuminates behind Veronica’s head and JD thinks it makes her look like an angel sent from a sacred place far away from this seedy town.

 

“Oh, so _now_ you’re going to say sorry, Mr. ‘stay, it’s still morning’,” she says, lowering her body down onto his and bracketing his head with her arms on the bed around him. A veil of hair falls around her face and he reaches up to sweep some of it behind her right ear only for most of it to flop back down into place. She’s still the slightest bit sensitive from her come down and she can feel that he’s still hard beneath his sweatpants. His hands come to rest on her hips.

 

“You still want to go over there?” he asks.

 

“Eventually,” she replies, and before he can make another judgmental expression, she adds, “but like you said, there’s no rush. I can stay here for a little while longer.”

 

“Only a little while?” he pouts.

 

“Maybe longer, just for you,” she says with a coy grin. “Because you’re so nice to me. And because you’re hot.”

 

She interrupts his laughter with a deep kiss, slow and sweet like honey and as a Sunday morning, as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> happy 2018! (although let's be real, time is an ~illusion~ and terrible shit happens all around!!!) not the best thing i've ever written but this was lowkey inspired by a scene in an early episode of shameless (US) when jimmysteve and fiona were still a thing. i don't remember the episode but he essentially did what i wrote in this fic to fiona while she was busy getting ready one morning and i always found it kinda hot. side note, did anyone watch/has anyone watched shameless? seasons 1-4 were damn golden.


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